Sometimes I need to use nerdy advanced stats to help people understand football problems. This isn’t really one of those cases. The Cowboys pretty obviously cannot stop the run. But here are the stats anyway: they’re tied for last place in the NFL in yards allowed per carry, at 5.4. They’re last in expected points added per run on defense, with a mind-boggling 0.184. They’re last in run defense DVOA at 36.4 percent, meaning the average rush they face is 36 percent more successful than the average run the league faces. And that number is so absurd they’re in last place by more than 25 points.
In a world of Cowboys problems that often get brushed aside, this one is too glaring and ever-present to be ignored. So let’s not ignore it. How did it get like this?
The fissures first became obvious last year, when the Cowboys began to understand that Dan Quinn’s boom-bust defense was not exactly built to stop a good running attack. It happened in three of their six losses last year: the surprise marination by Arizona, a clubbing by Buffalo, and the playoff disappointment (I’m being kind) against Green Bay. Quinn played five defensive backs 74 percent of the time, and six or more defensive backs 22 percent of the snaps, both of which were top-10 rates in the NFL. That was with Markquese Bell, all 205 pounds of him, essentially being used as a pseudo-linebacker. The Quinn gamble was that offenses still wouldn’t win at the point of attack. It delivered some big wins and some costly losses.
And in the tradition of hiring a coach who is the complete opposite of what you just had, in walked Mike Zimmer this offseason to move the needle from “player’s coach with laissez-faire views on the run” to “disciplinarian who demands that gaps be respected.” The Cowboys reeled in Eric Kendricks to be their linchpin linebacker in place of Damone Clark, but they’ve also played much heavier this year on the interior, where DeMarvion Overshown, Clark, Marist Liufau, and Nick Vigil have all gotten at least 28 snaps to try to plug the gaps.
The problem is that Dallas needed something far more significant than a 32-year-old linebacker and some stern words. When the Joneses refused to keep up with themselves this offseason and tightened the purse strings, they created a situation where the lighter Quinn personnel is now playing the roles that Zimmer wants. So far, they’ve not looked up to the task.
That wasn’t helped by the belated dumpster diving for defensive linemen just before the season. Jordan Phillips, a third-stringer buried on the Giants’ depth chart, came in via trade. Thirty-five-year-old Linval Joseph walked in off the street. Both were immediately counted on more than they had any right to be, given that Mazi Smith looked woefully unprepared for the role he’d been given in the preseason. Lo and behold, of the several glaring defensive flaws in run defense so far—the Cowboys have seven different run defenders with a PFF run defense grade under 35—Joseph, Smith, and Phillips have been complete flops in the middle. And in the most awkward moment of the young season, Phillips was placed on injured reserve for a wrist injury, which would be all well and good except for the fact that Phillips himself says he’s healthy. That’s how far a desperate team has gone to get a liability off the field.
So what does this ineptitude look like on the field? Let’s rewind to the Baltimore game, when Dallas was more than happy to stack against the run. There were eight defenders in the box on 40 percent of Derrick Henry and Justice Hill’s 30 carries. It became a problem of overpursuit against a once-in-a-generation quarterback runner who will punish you for that. As well as a problem of, well, pure talent.
It was one thing to give up a big run to Lamar Jackson, but the moment I knew the Cowboys were in trouble in this game was when they gave up a 17-yard scamper to Hill on the third offensive play of the game. The Cowboys played a base 4-3 defense against Baltimore’s 21-personnel (two backs with fullback Patrick Ricard, and one tight end), and they didn’t even touch Hill:
The Cowboys might have had someone technically playing the right gap or technique here, but it’s hard to find a place where they actually won. Even Trevon Diggs downfield looks like he’s barely fighting to get off a block.
As cool as the one Derrick Henry bulldozer run was, where he busted some tackles and stiff-armed a guy to the ground, the Ravens found the majority of their yards outside. Henry had 53 yards on 11 carries outside the tackle box. Jackson picked up 62 on eight carries. Hill notched 33 on five carries. It’s pretty clear at this point that other teams see the Cowboys as a defense that struggles to move up front, pursues the first thing it sees, and can be easily walled off on the interior.
Attacking the outside was a lesson the Ravens learned from the Saints in Week 2. Alvin Kamara had 20 carries for 115 yards, and of those 115 yards, 112 of them came outside the tackle box. Watch this, when the Cowboys are again playing base defense against … well, it’s basically 12-personnel, but since Taysom Hill counts as a tight end for some reason, technically it’s 21-personnel … but Tayson Hill isn’t blocking anybody. (Taysom Hill is a bizarre football unicorn.) Anyway, the result is the same:
Some would say it’s not ideal when your trade acquisition (Phillips) winds up 5 yards in the end zone because Cesar Ruiz just rides him there. Hard to win a run play if you can’t even hold a gap.
Why are the Cowboys the way they are defensively? It’s never one thing in football. But when you can’t trust any of your defensive linemen or corners to tackle or hold the point of attack reliably, you make it way too easy for an offense to stay on schedule. And the effect of that cascades on to the other areas of the defense. You can’t run designer blitz packages as easily when it’s third-and-short. You can’t get aggressive and get after the quarterback when your run defense is so bad that it has to honor every threat, imagined or not. ESPN even had a small line from Joseph where he talked about “everybody trying to play hero ball.”
In a world where physical football is now back, this Cowboys run defense just hasn’t played tough enough yet. Implicit in the “yet,” though, is an admission that they can get there. Recent history is replete with teams that turn the corner on a run defense issue, and three games isn’t much of a sample size either way. Last year’s Bears were 30th in defensive DVOA over their first three games and fresh off a game when the Chiefs ran roughshod using two different backs. They finished the year sixth in run defense DVOA.
If there’s one thing I’ve learned from covering this game as long as I have, it’s that the matchups in the run game matter more than we give them credit for. The Ravens have been one of the best running teams in the NFL for years, and a rejuvenated Alvin Kamara exploiting the issues that Dallas presented isn’t exactly getting run over by a mega-washed David Johnson on the Texans. It’s an issue, and certainly something that will stop them from being a good team if it continues. But there’s still, to cliché it up, a lot of ballgame left to fix this.
Subjectively, however, I think there is reason for worry. Zimmer is 68 and was a “my way or the highway” coach before he even became old enough to be classified as crotchety. Change does not come easy or naturally to coaches like him, and this could be a season-long problem if the Cowboys can’t find the right players up front to execute the schematic vision.
Stop me if you’ve heard this one before, Cowboys fans: the run defense was a lingering issue that went mostly unaddressed for too long. And only now that it is problem 1A, after the contracts on offense have finally been addressed, are we getting to see the full scope of how wrong this could go. Addressing the problem in-season is probably more about roster evaluation and honesty than anything. The Smith pick hasn’t worked and probably won’t work, and the last-minute additions aren’t helping in a meaningful way, either. The Cowboys need to find another Johnathan Hankins-esque midyear stopgap, as they did a few years ago.
In a Jerry Jones world where the perpetual response to a problem is “wait until it’s a tragedy,” the Cowboys appear to be sitting on their hands and hoping the situation solves itself. They’ll rearrange the deck chairs and pretend they’re living in a comedy, a little three-week farce that may only cost them a few games. And maybe it works out that way. But comedy’s a dead art form in Zimmer’s world. Now tragedy? That’s funny!
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